


caught in the rain

by cathedralhearts



Category: Kings (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Outing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I heard you went to see Jack,” she says as the maids set down plates of food and withdraw. David looks down at the lavish spread, and feels guilty. He doesn’t think it’ll ever stop. </p><p>“I did. He was drunk,” David says, reaching for his water glass. Michelle shakes her head. </p><p>“He was betrayed by someone he trusted. I’d probably be drunk too,” she says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	caught in the rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radialarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/gifts).



> My first Yuletide and I pick a fandom I haven't ever been involved in, for a television show I haven't watched in years. Champion effort on my part but an interesting experience nonetheless. I think I got a bit more freeform and loose with sticking to canon than I usually do, sorry. Prompt was "AU where Katerina Ghent did ruin Jack and run Joseph's tape."
> 
> Thanks to ellievolia for the speedy beta.

\--

David shuffles outside Jack’s chambers, feet scuffing against the Persian rug. He leans his head against the mahogany and takes one deep breath, and another.

He doesn’t know how to do this.

Raising a hand, he clenches it into a fist and raps his knuckles against the door, before he loses his nerve. Swallowing, it sounds so loud in the palace, as deathly quiet as it is.

There’s noise inside the room before the door swings open, and David wrinkles his nose as the stench of whisky hits his nose.

“Jeez,” he coughs, taking a step back.

Jack leans against the door, eyes red and heavily lidded, so obviously smashed off his face and miserable. “What do _you_ want?” he slurs. David steels himself and marches forward, pushing Jack back into his chambers and shutting the door behind them, lest someone else see and yet another scandal is created.

“I heard about the tape,” David says, leaning against the wood, hands behind his back. Jack’s in pajama pants and a grey tank top, his bed rumpled and there are bottles strewn across most of the surfaces. A huge television is playing the news on repeat, stills of the video of Jack smeared across between news bites. David picks up the remote, laying haphazardly on a bedside table, and clicks it off.

“Was watchin’ that,” Jack sighs, and sits down on the edge of his bed.

“You need to dry out. And then we need to talk about what’s going to happen next,” David says. He feels braver than he should be. Michelle, Silas and Rose haven’t spoken to Jack yet, as far as David knows. He’s the first.

Jack looks like he’s going to say something belligerent, so David takes the bottle from his hand and pushes him back into his cavernous bed. “Sleep,” he demands. “Everything will be better when you wake up.” It’s a lie, and they both know it-- Jack snorts and curls up on his side, pulling a pillow into his arms.

“Y’re suppos’d to be th’ good one, Davey,” Jack mumbles before he passes out, snoring softly. David just shakes his head and surveys the damage. He wonders if there’s a garbage bag in Jack’s bathroom.

 

* * *

 

By the time he finishes cleaning Jack’s room, searching through the cupboards and drawers for any secret stashes of drugs or alcohol (of which there is plenty), he’s invited to lunch with Michelle in her chambers. Things are tense; the whole house is tense. He feels at edge as he steps outside of Jack’s rooms, and even being with Michelle can’t set him at ease. Not completely.

“I heard you went to see Jack,” she says as the maids set down plates of food and withdraw. David looks down at the lavish spread, and feels guilty. He doesn’t think it’ll ever stop.

“I did. He was drunk,” David says, reaching for his water glass. Michelle shakes her head.

“He was betrayed by someone he trusted. I’d probably be drunk too,” she says. David just cracks his neck and picks up what he hopes is the correct knife and fork. Given how Michelle smiles into her glass, apparently not.

“I’m waiting for the right time to go see him,” she says as he cuts into his salad. David chews for a moment, and shrugs.

“You’re his sister. He needs you. Go now, or go later. Just… go?” David says. It frames as more of a question than he intends.

Michelle’s fingers clench around her cutlery, and her eyes drop to her plate. David wonders if he’s said the wrong thing-- made her feel like she’s not doing her duty as a sibling or something. He doesn’t know how to act proper most of the time, and in a situation like this, he isn’t sure where to defer and where to push ahead. Michelle just resumes eating, and they finish their meal in silence. It’s not uncomfortable, it just… is.

 

* * *

 

“Jack’s awake,” one of the house staff informs him. David’s in the library, reading over a book Reverend Samuels recommended for him. He’d mentioned he hadn’t had time to read the history of Gilboa, and Reverend Samuels, between somehow managing to look pained and excited, had given him a list of histories to read.

“It won’t be perfect, but it’s something,” he’d said, clapping a hand down on David’s shoulder.

David places a thumb in the book, his finger sliding against the soft paper. It’s worn with age, and well read. David likes it all the more for it. He’s used to things being loved and used, isn’t used to the tough starchiness of his bedsheets and that clean, fresh shine on everything. It feels alien to him.

“Thank you,” he says, standing up and reaching for Reverend Samuels’ list. It can be his bookmark. He tucks the novel under his arm and begins the trek across the palace to Jack’s chambers.

 

*

 

Sure enough, Jack’s awake and vomiting in his bathroom when David arrives. He’s sprawled out, shirtless and sweaty, grunting into the porcelain between heaves.

“Drinking isn’t as fun the morning after, is it?” David says from the doorway, leaning against it. Jack gives him the finger and groans again, clutching at the bowl.

David takes pity and wets a washcloth, fills up a glass of water and waits until Jack’s done before he hands them both over. Jack swills his mouth with the water and spits into the bowl, flushing. He flops back against the wall, legs akimbo in front of him.

David doesn’t really want to get any closer. He sits down across from Jack anyway, and waits.

Jack wipes at his face and neck, and drapes the cloth over his face. “I’m done for,” he says, his voice muffled by the material.

David rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Why? Because I’m a faggot?” Jack spits, the cloth sliding to fall on the floor with a sickening _splat_. David winces-- at the words more than anything.

“I didn’t call you that. Nobody’s calling you that.”

Jack barks out a laugh; a harsh, terrible thing.

“ _Everyone’s_ going to call me that. I’m an abomination, a disgrace. I’m disgusting. My father can’t look at me,” Jack chokes out, his voice wavering.

“Your father loves you,” David tries. Because he believes it-- in Silas’ heart, he knows the love for his son is greater than Jack thinks. Silas is hard on him because he will be king one day. It has to be why. It _has_ to.

“My father loves the _idea_ of me,” Jack corrects. David crosses his legs and watches Jack. Really takes in the broken, scared boy in front of him. “Stop it,” Jack whispers, averting his eyes.

“Why? Is this the first time anyone’s really looked at you and seen you for who you are?”

“No,” Jack rasps. Of course not; someone else had. They had abused the trust Jack placed in them, but someone else had. Part of the problem, or the solution. David isn’t sure quite yet.

“The blackout,” he says, more of a statement than a question. Jack shrugs; a weak, pitiful thing.

“People will have their opinions. It’s your responsibility to be a good prince, and one day a good _king_. It’s your divine right. God wouldn’t have made you how you are if he didn’t want you to be that way.”

Jack groans and turns away, picking the cloth back up and hiding his face. David huffs and crawls forward, snatching it from him and grabbing Jack’s face, clammy and wet. “ _Listen_. You are Jack Benjamin, son of Silas and Rose. You aren’t _this_.”

Jack pushes him away, eyes furious. “You don’t even know me, how do you get off telling me who or what I _am?_ ” he snarls. David pulls back and sits down, happy he’s finally eliciting some sort of emotion. Anything’s better than the aimless apathy.

“Your parents need time to process. Michelle maybe. But they love you. Somehow, somewhere. You have to live as your true self now, Jack. You have to _be_.”

Somehow, he thinks that scares Jack more than anything else. He’s played the part of the perfect prince, the playboy and the schmoozer, for so long. David has faith he can do it, though. He has faith in Jack.

There’s a knock on the door and Michelle appears, dressed in a plain, deep green dress. David’s breath catches in his throat. It’s simple but she looks so beautiful.

“Oh, little brother,” Michelle sighs. Jack’s lip wobbles as she comes in and sits down next to him, gathering him in her arms, as sweaty and half-naked and stinking as he is. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I should’ve been with you from the start.”

Jack doesn’t say anything. His fingers just clench a little tighter in the back of her dress.

David stays still and quiet, as still as he did when the butterflies crowned him. He thinks this moment is just as precious as that one.

 

* * *

 

Jack’s first public appearance post scandal is a charity dinner for the plague victims. Silas and Rose are stately, Michelle a vision in pink, and Jack is besuited with his hair slicked back. Silas thanks the benefactors and guests, wishes them a good evening and sweeps off to attend to his business, leaving Rose and Michelle to move about the patrons with Jack.

David’s at the foot of the staircase with Reverend Samuels, who watches the family with an unreadable expression on his face.

“How does the kingdom respond?” David asks in a low voice, mindful of those around him. Reverend Samuels clasps his shoulder, squeezing as he is wont to do.

“The kingdom wants to know the real Jack Benjamin.”

David smiles, watching Jack descend with his sister, their mother not far behind. Jack is led to a group of women and men in glittering dresses and sharp suits. They’re all polite and bow, their manners and deferment towards their monarchs overriding any sense of impropriety or desire to gossip for the moment.

“My son knows the world is watching,” Rose says from somewhere beside David. He doesn’t want to stop watching Jack crack jokes and move smoothly between them, asking after family members and business decisions-- as he always did.

“That he does. Jack likes a stage,” David says. He doesn’t know Jack nearly well enough, but maybe he does. Maybe he always knew Jack better than he thought he did.

Across the room, Jack catches his eye. He smiles.

“I just want him to be happy,” Rose says. David nods.

“Help him be happy, then.”

 

* * *

 

Jack comes to find him a week later, when he’s back in the library. He’s still on the same book, Reverend Samuels’ list tucked between the pages a quarter of the way through. He feels on edge, a little nervous, but he isn’t quite sure why. Jack has a way of unsettling him. Not in a bad way, just… in _a_ way.

“Dad came to talk to me,” he says, throwing himself into a chair nearby.

David raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Jack shrugs. “He’s pissed everyone knows I’m a fa-- that I’m gay. But he said some shit about spinning it to the best light, better voter base, I don’t know. He still can’t look at me. I know he thinks I’m going to destroy this family.”

“He’s talking to you, though. Think of it like war. Win one battle at a time.”

Jack laughs, but it’s not cruel or unkind, just is.

“You always know what to say, Shepherd. Right gift of the gab.”

David rolls his eyes, because they both know that _isn’t_ what he is. But it’s a joke, a private one between them, and David can’t help but smile despite it.

Jack settles down beside him, picking up a book off the stack. “History books? _Boring_ ,” he sighs. David resigns himself to entertaining the prince, and closes his.

“Oh? Think you’re a better storyteller than Luke Matthew?” David asks, waving the book at him. Jack swats at it and cracks his knuckles.

“Hell _yeah_ I am. Okay, where are you up to so far?” Jack asks.

David sighs, put puts the book down and wracks his brain. “Silas is about to be crowned.”

Jack nods and shifts in the chair until he’s comfortable. “Okay, so Dad’s on this field, right, and it’s-- it’s _crazy_ around him, but it’s… peaceful, as well? It’s hard to explain. Chaotic, but it’s calm. Like being in the eye of a storm, I guess. That’s how he described it, anyway…”

David watches Jack move, expressive and free in ways he hasn’t been since David’s known him. It makes him smile, makes him settle further and listen to the words, letting them sink into his soul and amongst his bones. _Jack might not be the heir Silas wants_ , he thinks, _but the son he has is an amazing one_.

And he is, amazing.


End file.
